For the Love of Birds
by Darksknight
Summary: (One-shot.) He doesn't understand her. She says she loves a lot of things; birds, puddles, comics. How easily she gives her heart.


Okay, so I know this is a tad bit out of character, but I bet if Orihime had stayed in Los Noches long enough this sort of relationship would have developed between them. I mean, it's ORIHIME, queen of the sweet smile. She'd come to accept things, I think, and learn to be her happy usual self, you know? Anyway, enjoy!

.o.O.o.

Her words are drifting through his ears again.

"I loved the birds outside my window," She'd told him over breakfast, mouth stuffed with some sort of bread. "I named the three that were usually there. One was Rae, one was Fa, and the last one was La. You know, like after the song scales in that German movie, the ones with the singing and the nanny. She was pretty… I loved those birds, Ulquiorra."

He doesn't understand her. How could someone come to be in love with something like a bird? The creatures didn't even belong to her- they didn't bring her anything, they didn't protect her, and as far as he knew they couldn't speak to her. Then again, the woman conversed with walls, somehow- maybe she was able to ring words out of animals.

She says she loves a lot of things. How easily she gives her heart.

"I loved the little puddle that would pop up at the bottom of the stairs after it rained." She said, smile sweet, eyes clear. "It would always reflect my shoes when I jumped over it, like a mirror. And it would make everyone jump- turn us all into little kids again. I think that my neighbor, Mr. Kusarabi, didn't like that puddle. But I loved it."

Water. A puddle was a collection of water. How she could become enamored with it was far, far beyond him. As time goes on she talks about more things she loves and he's not surprised- this foolish little girl can fall in love with just about anything. Why, it wouldn't surprise him if he came in to her room one day to find her passionately embracing the sofa. She'd spout of some nonsense about it's fuzzy personality or something- she was that ridiculous.

It is impossible to truly love one thing- how can she claim to love so much?

"I… I didn't like the smoke from Mr. Kusarabi's cigarettes. That's one thing I don't miss. My mother… she used to smoke, too. She'd blow the smoke in my face so that I'd start coughing." She shakes her head and smiles, as if she's talking about some sort of silly fight she got into back when she was a child. "It reminds me too much of her. That time my father broke my arm and I ran to find her she was smoking. And because she was smoking I had to wait to get driven to the doctor until she was done…" She laughs, softly.

"I don't understand." He says. "You speak of things that shouldn't make you happy, and yet you are smiling. Are you a masochist, perhaps?"

She shrugs once, still smiling. "No. But thinking about all those bad things reminds me of my brother, Sora. He took me away from that place… and he made me happy. So when I think about those bad things, I'm reminded of the good things- of Sora. And that makes me happy, because I love Sora."

He notices that she doesn't say _loved_ like she had been. He nods once. "I see."

And it's odd to him, but it starts to make sense. She isn't _in_ love, she simply loves things. She enjoys things that other people don't think to appreciate, and somehow her mind always makes a map to a more serine place within her memories. She isn't lying when she says she loves. She truly does. And he isn't sure how she is able to love so much, how she can so carelessly give out portions of her care to things undeserving.

"What do you think in regards to me, Onna?"

She stops in her rambling- she had been talking about how much she enjoyed a comic about small ninja mice. As she said, she _loved_ that comic. "Huh?"

"Myself. When you are reminded of me, what do you think. Am I the smoke your neighbor so callously allows to drift to your door, or am I the puddle at the bottom of the stairs to you?"

For a moment she is silent, thinking.

Then she looks up, and her smile is so radiant that for a moment he thinks she truly has captured the sun in her soul, somehow.

"Oh, Ulquiorra-kun." She laughs, shaking her head. "You're not a puddle or smoke! You're you. I wouldn't love you if you were a puddle or a bird or anything else. I love you because you are you."

He stares.

Quickly, she realizes what she has said, and begins to back-peddle. "I-I mean!" Her face lights up red. "I- I- I'm not _in_ love with you, Ulquiorra-kun, I, um, I say love like we are friends, are we friends? N-not that thinking of you as a b-b-boyfriend is bad, no, you would probably be a good boyfriend, you wouldn't forget about anniversaries or birthdays or-"

"Onna."

She stops.

"Why?"

She blinks a couple of times. "W-why?"

He nods once, unwilling to further explain his inquiry, and she seems to get it.

Face pink, she casts her eyes to the floor, fisting her hands in her white dress as she smiles faintly. "You are kind." She starts, and for a moment he almost scoffs out loud. But she goes on, and he listens without making a sound. "You protect me, and bring me food… you talk to me. You listen. And you are nice, Ulquiorra-kun. You are a very special person."

He is so startled by her declaration he forgets to correct her. (No, I am not Ulquiorra-_kun_ , Onna- do not refer to me as you would a human. I am not a person, either. I am a hollow. An arancar. And I do not bring you food and company of my own will, I was charged with the task.)

"I know I'm your job." She looks up at him, then, and she beams. "But you're just so nice to me that I can't help but love you for what you do. Even if you were kind of mean in the beginning… well, some people start out a little rough around the edges." She laughs, like she hasn't just made the understatement of the century with the _little_ rough around the edges and the _kind of_ mean.

For a moment he stares.

And then, he thinks, maybe he does understand her. Because even though she is of no use to him, in that moment, he thinks he might care, too.


End file.
